A Day in the Life of A City

Sleepovers...the blessing all girls love. It was one warming evening not too long ago, alright, it was this last weekend, that I was able to experience a two night sleepover. Please note that it my family, this is very rare, as everyone but me thinks that a sleepover is some phenomenon that takes a year or two to recover from.

Anyways, this sleepover was special, partly planned and partly unplanned. The planned part was simple: One of my friends who lives a few hours away was going to come and stay at my house for the duration of a tournament. The unplanned part was that she ended up sleeping in my room. Being girls, of course, this was no problem. We made room and settled in for the evening. What was the problem is, being girls, we talked.

A lot.

Besides telling stories, we critiqued our day's performance at the tournament, bantered about who we would like or not like to go against and other oddities. This went on for about two hours when some matronly voices reminded us that we had another day of competeing begining in about eight hours. We agreed to that fact, and continued talking. Very soon a patronly voice told us that we would be required to roll out of the bed and into a car in about seven hours, and we needed to get some sleep. So we did...for a bit. Only too soon my dear alarm (set to Celtic Woman's Caledonia) began to play and the house began to explode. First off, somebody went and showered in the bathroom that doesn't have a shower curtain. Perhaps this was partly my fault, as I didn't warn them that it didn't have a curtain, but on the other hand, wouldn't it be just a bit obvious? Whatever the answer to that question is, the floor was still soaked. Other such explosions happened throughout the morning, ending with me almost forgeting my suit jacket and notes before we sped out the door and were happily on our way to the tournament.

One thing I ought to note is that I routinely get ready for a tournament on the way to the tournament. I usually exit the house wearing a hoodie, flat shoes (flip-flops, if I happen to get away with it) and hair unkempt, and exit the car to the tournament with a dazzling do and in a suit, complete with high heels. Somehow wrinkled shirts get pressed in the back of the car, but I'm not really sure how that happens; it might be the hoodie's influence. Anyways, I arrived at the tournament in one piece, and ready to debate. And Debate I did. Everything went fine until my third round of the day.

I went against a very good, graduating debater. I wasn't sure how I would survive, but I tightened my belt (I wasn't wearing one, so I'm not sure how that happened) and strode into the room. My debater friend and I had quite a good time before the judge came in. My friend knew what my case was (I hadn't expected to hit him, so I had told him, and even offered him the case if he wanted it), and I knew what his case was...I had ran it earlier. So we debated. IT was an interesting round, and I had lots of fun.

After we were done, I walked out to the playground that was located nearby and amused myself by sitting and watching a mentor play on the "doughnut of death." The doughnut of death was somewhat like a huge tire, about five feet in diameter, and was slanted and on some sort of wheel or rotating device, as it would go around in circles if not correctly balanced. Watching ten guys try to keep their balance on the doughnut of death while standing up (and while screaming like girls) is quite...interesting to say the least. Later on that day I was able to partake of the doughnut of death myself, except for two small differences; one, I sat on the doughnut of death, and two, I did not scream.

Besides breaking to quarterfinals, the rest of the day was uneventful, until I had to watch two people that I really wanted to qualify go against each other for one slot. That hurt.

Anyways, the rest of the day went well, and finished just the way it had began: with two girls, talking late into the night.

A City